I did not want to meld. I did not care for the sly gleam in King Damir’s eyes. This was nothing more than another excuse to search for whatever power he desired in the mirrored world.

The king was cunning. With little hesitation, Hundur’s mouth split into a wide grin. He flexed his fingers, once, twice, then dipped his chin. “Agreed.”

A Stav took hold of my arm, only loosening his grip when he caught sight of Roark’s murderous glare, and guided me toward Tomas.

He scrambled to get free of me. I bared my teeth and leaned close, my words meant for him alone. “I’m to do this by the king’s command. I’ve never done it. For your sake, I hope it goes well.”

The fear in Tomas’s gaze brought a twisted bit of satisfaction. Perhaps I was a monster. I fell into his whimpers, his protests, and trapped his face between my palms.

A sick glide of molten bone shifted under my palms. Tomas cried his pain, still muffled behind his melded teeth.

Queen Ingir gasped when bone cracked. A new cleft formed, splitting Tomas’s mouth. He drew in a sharp gasp of air. More teeth were cracked and jagged from breaking apart, but the opening was wide enough he could drink and slip small bits of food inside.

The room spun and I pulled away my palms. Golden threads only I could see frayed and split, freeing the melded parts of his jaw. I swallowed bile when Tomas spit out the mangled piece of his fingertip onto the floor. At my back, I caught sight of Thane leaning into Roark.

The prince’s voice was low, as though he wanted only his Sentry to hear, but I caught the soft words. “I know the symbolism of the swallowed finger, Roark. That is a damn Draven punishment to those who harm a woman already claimed by another. Take heart no one else cares to study their rituals or you would be blamed entirely.”

By the gods. Roark punished Tomas in a way folk of his clan harmed those who hurt their lovers? I shook my head and split more of Tomas’s teeth.

It was not so taxing as I let on—forced breaths that heaved my chest, false dabs at my brow for sweat that was not there—when I faced the king. “My lord, I’ve done all I can do.”

“No.” Tomas’s words were muffled, slurred. A bit of spittle slid from the corner of his mouth. “I can…cannot speak as I…did.”

I raised trembling palms and swayed on my feet. “If King Hundur is to receive your reward, I cannot do more. I fear I might…stumble.”